


I Know This. This I Know. (All that I Have, All that is Me)

by TastesLikeSTFU



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Radio, I'm joining the "Genim is Stiles's real name" bandwagon, M/M, Other, Radio, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeSTFU/pseuds/TastesLikeSTFU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based loosely on/inspired by <a href="http://ironychan.tumblr.com/post/59587159511/cecil-baldwin-died-twenty-years-ago-the-building">this Tumblr post</a>:</p><p>  <i>"Cecil Baldwin died twenty years ago.  The building where the radio station used to be was torn down to make room for a strip mall.  Thousands of people thought they were living in a perfectly normal Arizona town.</i> </p><p>  <i>Then the broadcasts started…"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Welcome to Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone (or, I guess, everyone reading this...)
> 
>  ~~I'm having a bit of trouble with chapter names and such, so this chapter is actually supposed to be the prologue. But I haven't finished writing chapter 1 just yet, so proper naming of chapters will have to wait.~~  
>  lol jk figured it out.
> 
> Thanks for choosing to read this possibly odd sounding fusion fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the weather in [Episode 10: Feral Dogs](http://traffic.libsyn.com/nightvale/10-FeralDogs.mp3), "I Know This" by Rachel Kann.

    20 years ago, Stiles Stilinski was the host of a nighttime radio show, called "Welcome to Beacon Hills". The show was broadcast from the basement of the high school, a bi-monthly affair, produced by a handful of other teenagers, and listened to avidly. It was a strange show, often rife with strange imagery and existential philosophy that seemed much too deep to come from a group of teens so young. The weather replaced by songs performed by local musicians, the messages from sponsors hidden beneath poetic, often terrifying anecdotes, "Welcome to Beacon Hills" was a hit with the adolescent populous of the town. And no matter how many times school administration attempted to catch a broadcast, it was always too late, and they would arrive to find an empty basement, and the words, " _Goodnight, Beacon Hills, goodnight_ " ringing out into the darkened skies.

    The show continued during the summers and no one could ever figure out how Stiles and his friends were able to sneak into the school. Especially when considering that Stiles was the son of the town's sheriff.  
In the summer of 1994, an arsonist had begun to terrorize the town, setting fire to homes and businesses with people still inside. The Hale house was the first; set ablaze in May, killing everyone but two young children and an older relative, and nearly four more buildings followed in the next two months.  
Halfway through July, Beacon Hills high school was targeted by the arsonist, and was burned to the ground in a matter of almost 45 minutes, the fire so powerful no one could have hoped to stop it. The next day, they discovered that, while most of the crew of "Welcome to Beacon Hills" managed to get out, Stiles was caught in the basement. He died when the building collapsed.

That was the last case of arson in Beacon Hills that summer. It was also Sheriff Stilinski's last year on the force. And for an entire year, the students had to take their classes at the local rec center. The arsonist was never caught.

Despite the tragic summer of 1994, things returned to normal. Nights were quiet, and after a while, people seemed to nearly forget about the fires.  
For 20 years, everything was normal. That is, until a new broadcast of "Welcome to Beacon Hills" aired.

Featuring Stiles Stilinski as the host.


	2. Pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously there are bits and pieces taken directly from Welcome to Night Vale, or rewritten to fit the context of the story.  
> I utilized a fantastic tumblr that hosts the transcripts of episodes of Welcome to Night Vale called [ Cecil Speaks](http://www.cecilspeaks.tumblr.com).  
> All details pertaining to or derived from the podcast "Welcome to Night Vale" are the intellectual property of Joseph Fink and Jeffery Cranor.

    Allison Lahey (neé Argent) puts her children to bed and makes her way downstairs to the kitchen, planning on relaxing with her husband and a glass of wine while they watch a movie. Her plans are put on hold when the house phone rings from its place on the counter, by the canisters full of sugar and flour.

"Hello?" She answers, not bothering to check the caller ID.  
 _"Allison! Do you have a radio?"_  
"Scott? Uh, yeah, I've got a radio around here somewhere. Why-?"  
 _"Just get your radio and turn it on."_

Isaac pokes his head into the kitchen, brows pinched together, expression inquisitive as he asks, "What's going on?" 

Allison covers the mouthpiece and replies, "It's Scott. Where's our radio?"

"Um. It's in the garage. I'll grab it." Isaac says, his expression turning a little confused at his wife's odd choice of segue.  
   
Once he returns with the radio and plugs it in, Allison asks, "Scott are you still there? What station am I supposed to turn it to?"

_"Ninety-eight point seven."_ He says, and Allison's chest burns suddenly.  
"Scott... are you sure-?" Her throat closes a little.  
 _"Yes. Yes, just do it. Please."_ The end is soft, almost desperate, and she trusts him.

Allison tells Isaac the station, and waits, all three of them silent in anticipation. The only sounds disturbing the quiet are Scott's breath into the phone and the static between stations as Isaac turns the dial, searching.  
Isaac finds the station, and they wait in silence for only seconds (seconds that feel like minutes, like hours). When Allison hears it, she lets out a gasp that sounds a lot like a sob.

_"Hello, listeners. To start things off, I’ve been asked to read this brief notice:  
The City Council announces the opening of the Beacon Hills nature preserve, which has been sectioned off from the old Hale property. They would like to remind listeners that _ people _are not allowed in the preserve. _Animals_ are not allowed in the preserve..."_

Allison drops the phone and cries, covering her mouth with her hands. Isaac quickly envelopes her in his arms, holds her trembling form close.

From the floor, the phone emits the faint, but obnoxious beeping tone signifying a disconnected phone call. 

    In 1994, Scott McCall and Allison Argent were among the 11 other teenagers involved with Stiles's radio show not including their host himself. They always called it Stiles's radio show. It was never anything else. He made that broadcast what it was.

They referred to themselves as the "secret keepers". Because school administration knew Stiles was the host of the show that, in their eyes, burdened their town. But they knew nothing of his co-conspirators, knew that while he needed help to put it all on, they couldn't do anything about shutting it down without catching them in the act. Each of them were dedicated secret keepers, and so was Stiles. They all kept one another safe, so to speak.

Those times that all 11 of them would cram themselves and their cumbersome radio equipment into the basement of the school were the most memorable of their lives. There was something... electric about what they were doing, defying authorities and sometimes, even, making a statement.  
Allison and Scott dated off and on, but they finally broke it off for good after the fire and Stiles's death. Allison sought comfort from Isaac, and Scott sequestered himself away to deal with the loss of his best friend on his own.

That summer was one of death and emptiness, and it still goes on to be one none of them will ever forget. 

    Allison and Isaac are the first to be contacted by Scott. After them, follow Lydia, then Erica and Boyd, then Jackson, then Ethan and Aidan, and then Danny.  
By the time all of them have been called, the show is halfway over, Stiles's voice thrumming through each of them.

It's Lydia who calls Mr. Stilinski and tells him which station to change his radio to. She has to bite her lip to keep from making noise when she hears Mr. Stilinski cuss, voice breathless and pained.

"What kind of sick joke is this? Did you kids ever record any of your sessions? Is that what this is?"  
"No, no, no. Mr. Stilinski, I promise you that it's not a joke. Scott- Scott McCall just called me and told me about it and I had to hear it for myself. I- I..." she trails off, tone going from frantic to a little soft and hoarse.

Over the phone, they share quiet breaths, both having turned their attention to the radio. To Stiles, long since passed.  
Lydia breaks the silence by saying, still very softly, "This is material I've never heard before, Mr. Stilinski."

     _"A new man came into town yesterday. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect jaw line? Why his beautiful leather jacket? He's a quiet man, familiar in ways I can't begin to comprehend..."_  

Derek Hale is tucked under the hood of his camaro, the window on the driver's side door rolled down so that he can hear the radio. There's not much in the way of rock, but there's a station that plays country with a fine film of static overlaying it, and a mainstream music station.  
He gets tired of the fuzzy country music really quickly and wipes his hands on a shop rag in order to change the channel without getting grease all over the interior. He finds a station with just a man speaking, figures it's better than nothing and gets back to fiddling under the hood.

The voice on the radio is light and soothing. Derek finds himself lulled into a comfortable rhythm, working with his hands, matching the pace of the man on the radio.  
At first, he doesn't pay attention to what's being said, he just works, periodically adjusting the light hanging from the hood. Derek is as close to content as he's gotten in a long time. The door to his garage is open just enough to let in some of the cool night air and the slightest breeze that comes in feels nice. Hearing his name from inside the car grabs his attention and, after wiping his hands again, he reaches through the open window to turn up the volume.

_"The new man, we now know, is named Derek Hale. He has a scowl that would make lesser men quiver and teeth like an angry rabbit-."_  
Derek's brows hike up his forehead and then he scowls at the radio, bringing oil stained fingertips up to touch his teeth (halting only seconds before he actually touches). His teeth aren't that bad...

_"...why he came to Beacon Hills, I do not know. His past is dark, his smile a secret, and his intentions... well, I can't rightly say, listeners. He stood on his family property, made a joke to himself, watching the sun stain the sky hot colors like fire and he was strong. And I fell in love instantly."_

    Scott was driving back to Beacon Hills from visiting his kids in Jericho when he'd been flipping through various stations. The moment he heard Stiles's voice, he slammed on his breaks, nearly causing an accident. He pulled off onto the shoulder of the road to call everyone, and then sat in the quiet car to listen.  
As Stiles makes his declaration of love for a stranger named Derek, Scott can't help but laugh. He laughs hard enough to drown out what Stiles says next.  
Scott remembers Stiles used to do that, used to get waxing poetic about the simplest of things, and Scott realizes, with an internal jolt, that he misses Stiles. Still misses him. Misses him just as much as the day he died. He misses Stiles's ticks, quirks, speech patterns, everything. After so many years, the hurt went away and he was able to live with having to live without his best friend. But there are times, like right now, when something will catch his attention or a memory will come to mind and then the sadness will come roaring right after it.  
Scott has to take a few moments to breathe through the pain, to settle himself so that he can hear the rest of the broadcast.

     _"A great howling was heard from the Beacon Hills post office last night. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passers-by describe the sound as being a little like a human soul being destroyed through black magic.  
Mr. Harris, the chemistry teacher at the high school, claims to be an expert on black magic as well as chemistry and says he will gladly assist the sheriff's department. Which, I don't know if you've seen this guy's diploma, seems highly improbable considering you'd need at least a master's in chemistry to be anywhere near qualified to do black magic and Harris only has a bachelor's..._

_Traffic time, listeners.  
A car braking suddenly on the I-405 north toward Beacon Hills from Jericho nearly caused a pile-up. The sheriff's secret police report no injuries and suspect phantom hitchhiker involvement. The phantom hitchhikers have been appearing in the backseats of cars going over the speed limit, and asking to change the radio station. Which serves as reinforcement for drivers to _ go the speed limit. _I cannot stress this enough. Not only will you cause accidents but the phantom hitchhikers will be late getting to their destinations when you get into accidents, and that's just rude._

_And now,[ the weather](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1st_9KudWB0&feature=kp)." _

    Despite the late hour, Coach Finstock is still in his office, going over plays for the team and his plans for his econ class. At 63 years old, Finstock wakes early, goes to bed late, and is as cantankerous as he was when he was hired on nearly 35 years ago.  
He packs up his things, locks his office, and makes his way to the front of the school from the gym.

Day in and day out, he passes the framed lacrosse jersey hung on the wall between the trophy cases. A plaque beneath the framed garment reading 'In Memory of Genim "Stiles" Stilinski. Player 24'. So he almost thinks nothing of passing it by tonight, merely glancing at it. But something catches his eye. Finstock stops in his tracks, backs up, and looks at the wall.

Bracketing the jersey in bright, garish green spray paint are the words, _'STILINSKI LIVES'_.

     _"Lights. Seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher, and beyond that. We know the difference. We’ve caught on to their game. We understand the “lights above Arby’s” game. Invaders from another world._

_Ladies and gentlemen, the future is here, and it’s about 100 feet above the Arby’s._

_Speaking of games, listeners, a large hole has been found behind the pin retrieval area of lane 5 in the town's bowling alley. Rumors of small lights and noises of a miniature civilization are beginning to spread. So, get your games in before the inevitable invasion!_

_It's settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in town. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did._

_Goodnight, Beacon Hills. Goodnight."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone thinks I've under- or over-done the way Scott expresses or experiences grief, please let me know. I'm going off my own personal experience for the characterization.
> 
> This episode's weather is: "Sleepwalk" by Santo and Johnny.
> 
> EDIT: Due to the random captions on MTV's video player while watching Wolf Watch, I discovered that "Aiden" is actually "Aidan". So I fixed it!
> 
> EDIT 5/19/14: I've marked this work as complete, but I may add more chapters later on.  
> Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Glow Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone (or, y'know, everyone that reads this)!  
> I want to thank those of you who've been so patient in waiting for me to update! I'm definitely making this a storyline instead of the measly two-chaptered thing it was when I marked it as "complete". It's obviously a WIP, and I will update it when I can. It's thanksgiving break for me, so I thought I'd treat myself by working on a story that I enjoy.
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter, because this is where I start developing an actual plot to the whole thing.

     _"Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Just this morning it only looked overcast, and around 4 o'clock, you'd have thought the sun was setting if it weren't for the time. Even now, as night closes in on us, so does the cloud..."_

     Danny looks out his window at the evening sky- the sun setting on the west sinking into a murky storm that sits low on the horizon. He dismisses it, naturally, it's just a storm. In high school, they brought things from real life into their broadcasts all the time. Besides, Beacon Hills summers are so hot that really bad weather is almost nonexistent, nothing stronger than a drizzle ever happens. Danny thinks nothing of it, and turns his attention back to the radio.

     The wind picks up buffeting Lydia's hair up and around her shoulders. It's unseasonably chilly today, and she hunches her shoulders against it, making her way to her car. Inside, she runs her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame it as best as she can without a hairbrush. Out on the horizon, she catches a flash of lightning. The wind outside whistles lowly, gusting with vigor.

She starts her car, backing out of the parking space, and leaving her workplace. She cranks the heat as well as the volume, letting both Stiles's voice and the air conditioning warm her.

     _"Chemistry teacher and amateur dark magician, Adrian Harris, has announced the discovery of disturbing evidence related to the post office incident._

_Harris claims that , using 'ancient magics' he slipped through City Council's high level security and found that all of the letters and packages had been thrown about, and that there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh. He also claims that a symbol - a large, singular spiral- adorned one wall, in blood._

_Can you_ believe _this guy said he used 'ancient magics'? Seriously? I don't believe a word of this. Harris is so underqualified to do black magic- let alone any magic- that he's just making an embarrassment of himself!_

_On a different note. here's something odd..."_

Mariah Atwater, teenaged gas station attendant at the local Gas 'n Go, pushes open the men's restroom door, pulling a small cart of cleaning supplies behind her. She bypasses the sink and single stall to stop her cart by the urinal. 

Mariah's got thick rubber gloves on, a flimsy paper mask over her nose and mouth, and is armed with a spray bottle when she hears loud purring from behind her.

 _"...there's a cat hovering in the men's restroom of our little radio station! He's floating about four feet off the floor, right next to the sink..."_  

Mariah stares with wide eyes at the grey tabby, hovering by the lip of the sink. Its purring echoes off the walls and its green eyes are trained on her, unerringly. When she approaches it, pets it with a gloved hand, it butts its forehead into her palm and purrs even louder.

_"...doesn't seem to be able to move from his spot. If you pet him, he'll purr and do other cat things..."_

Mariah attempts to pluck the cat out the air. It doesn't budge one inch, and instead delivers her an indignant "mrrraw". She smiles at it, scritches under its chin and then goes on to finish cleaning the bathroom. When she's done, she turns the sink faucet on at a trickle for the cat, locks the bathroom door behind her, and hangs an "out of order" sign on it 

      _"The city council is asking all Beacon Hills citizens to attend a mandatory meeting in the local rec center's gymnasium for a questionnaire about suspicious activities seen and unseen._

_And remember: if you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget._

_The mysterious glowing cloud, reported on earlier in the broadcast, has settled itself right over downtown Beacon HIlls. It appears to be raining small, dead animals off and on. They should be easy to clean up!"_

     Erica startles when something thumps loudly against her kitchen window, just above the sink at which she is doing dishes. She looks closely at the pane of glass and finds a small crack and a smear of brownish blood. Erica makes a disgusted sound, straightening up. Seconds later, something slams through the window, landing in the sink, spraying glass and dishwater everywhere. Erica cries out, jumping back in shock when a piece of glass cuts her cheek, just beneath her eye.

In the water, bobs the body of a slightly flattened rat. Outside, thunder booms and the sky lights up a bright sickly yellow that quickly slides to green, and then to dark blue.

      _"If you're caught in the downpour of small animals, I would recommend carrying an umbrella capable of handling falling animals up to... let's say 10 pounds-._

_I've just been handed a public notice- a body has been found on the outskirts of the nature preserve. An unidentified female. Horrifyingly, they have only found half of her body. The Sheriff's Secret Police advise the community to stay inside, lock your doors and windows and be cautious of strangers. But not so cautious as to ignore any offers of candy- free candy is always the best candy."_

Sheriff Jordan Parrish hugs his coat tighter around him and trudges toward his car through the fallen leaves in the nature preserve. The wind has picked up now that the sun has set, and there's a low hum in the air as it blows through the trees. They've only found one half of a young woman's body and it's going to be a slow night trying to find the other half, especially if it does start to rain. But, when one of his deputies calls him over the walkie talkie urgently, he just knows it's gotten worse. 

_"Sheriff? Over."_

"Go for Parrish, over."

_"Betty, back at the station, is getting flooded with calls of- of dead animals falling from the sky. Powerlines are down between 12th and South Down Lane, and we have no idea if this is just some big prank or something, but the calls are getting more and more frantic, over."_

"Okay. I'll see if-." But his words are cut off suddenly when something large lands on the front of his cuiser, effectively smashing the engine and hood completely.  On what is left of the police car, rests a dead lion.

Shakily, Sheriff Parrish brings the walkie back up and says, "Deputy, those calls are definitely not pranks, over."

      _"...Sunday is dot day! Remember, red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don't. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences._

_New call in from John Peters- you know, the farmer? Seems the Glow Cloud has doubled in size, enveloping all of Beacon Hills in its weird light and humming song..."_

The winds have become so strong that whole tree limbs have been pulled down, powerlines have been almost demolished, and many houses have suffered severe damage. The winds carry an ominous sound, and many citizens are afraid a tornado may be imminent. All the while the sky is a fantastical sight- so many changing hues, so fast that the colors blend together.

_"...The Sheriff's Secret Police have taken to shouting questions at the cloud, which have gone unanswered so far..."_

"This is ridiculous! Can anyone even get the emergency broadcasts? Almost every single powerline is gone, the whole town is completely unprepared for this storm!" Deputy Boyd shouts over the winds as he and Sheriff Parrish walk to his cruiser.

Boyd hadn't believed Parrish, at first. How else does one react to the call 'My cruiser has been crushed by a dead lion that fell from the sky, closest unit to nature preserve access road please respond'?

Boyd looks up at the tumultuous florescent sky and shouts, "What the hell is going on? What is this?"  
Parrish doesn't say anything, but instead steels himself against a powerful gust and tries to walk as fast as he can to Boyd's cruiser. 

_"...The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings of love. "_

Allison squeezes Isaac's hand tightly, and presses a firm kiss to his mouth, before hefting their youngest daughter up on her hip. Isaac takes their eldest daughter's hand in his and they all make their way downstairs. The whole house is dark but for the light coming in from outside. 

_"...The Glow Cloud simply is."_

Outside, the residents of Beacon Hills stand- in their yards, in the streets, on the sidewalks, on top of roofs, and cars- their eyes to the sky, their mouths open to chant.

_**"ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY GLOW CLOUD!** _

_**ALL HAIL.** _

_**AND NOW, SLAVES OF THE GLOW CLOUD,[ THE WEATHER](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PfOuBG97q2A)."** _

     Clean-up goes smoothly the next day. Or, about as smoothly as it can go after the whole town is nearly ruined by a freak storm. Nearby towns lend a hand in hauling out debris or assisting in at least rebuilding the powerlines. After all, what good is a town without power? Many people work well into the evening, some listening intently to radios, and only a few waiting patiently for one particular voice.

_"I apologize for the strange broadcast yesterday, dear listeners. Well, I assume it was strange, but I don't actually remember anything. I tried to playback the tapes, but they're all blank and smell faintly of... vanilla._

_The town is recovering from a devastating storm the likes of which we may never have seen. But at least we are recovering, together, as a community. We may never know what the Glow Cloud is or why it chose to dump a lot of dead animals on our community._

_But, and I'm going to get a little personal here, that's the essence of life isn't it?_

_Sometimes, you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious glowing cloud devouring your entire community. While they're happening they feel like the only thing that matters, and you can hardly imagine that there's a world out there that might have anything else going on._

_And then the Glow Cloud moves on. And_ you _move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find that, as time passes, you remember it less and less. Or absolutely not at all, in my case. And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important things in life- and the faint but pretty smell of vanilla._

_Sleep well, and goodnight, Beacon Hills, goodnight."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes are taken from the Welcome to Night Vale episode "Glow Cloud" and some are paraphrased or reworded for this incarnation of the podcast.
> 
> Night Vale transcripts are available at [ Cecil Speaks](http://www.cecilspeaks.tumblr.com)
> 
> The Welcome to Night Vale podcast is available to listen to on iTunes or [ here](http://www.nightvale.libsyn.com)
> 
> The weather is "Worry About You" by Ivy.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [my tumblr!](http://whatwoulddahmerdo.tumblr.com)
> 
> _Additionally, if you should meet the actors, writers, creator, or anyone involved with the show/book/movie this fanfiction is about, please do not inform them, encourage them to read, or make them read this unless you have explained to me in detail why you want to expose them to my writing and have received my explicit permission to do so._


End file.
